


Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

by lamujerarana



Category: Fantastic Four, Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Engagement, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild References to Torture and Death, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2307026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamujerarana/pseuds/lamujerarana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter copes with Johnny's recent death and subsequent return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based loosely on the events of Fantastic Four #587--Johnny's death. Kind of goes off from there. 
> 
> I also see this as being set awhile after my other SpideyTorch fic, My Gigantic Crush, which you can find [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2305721/chapters/5073023), but you don't really have to have read it first to get this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets kinda sad. I apologize in advance...but it gets happy by the end of the second chapter! I promise! Johnny's not really dead!

On those nights that Johnny spent at the Baxter Building with his family, Peter missed Johnny terribly. He knew he could always just swing over and hang out too, which he did, sometimes, but still…he missed having time alone with Johnny. Between Peter’s patrols through New York as Spider-Man, his missions with the Avengers, and Johnny’s responsibilities to the Fantastic Four, the amount of time they got to spend alone together was growing increasingly smaller. 

And Peter missed him when he wasn’t around. He liked climbing in through the window and finding Johnny spread out over the bed, blankets kicked off to the floor. Liked to cuddle up next to him and feel a sense of warmth and comfort spread over his chilled body. And sometimes Johnny would wake up when he came home. 

Those were the best nights.

A voicemail that had been waiting for him when he checked his phone while on patrol told him this night would be one of the nights he spent alone. Johnny had just wanted to let him know he would be busy taking Ben out on a guys’ night out, since Ben had recently taken a serum that allowed him to briefly lose his powers. 

"I'm just gonna make sure Ben doesn't waste this week. Take him to bars, nightclubs, all the stuff he usually doesn't get to do. Hope you don't mind. If you're not too tired, maybe you could join us? Also, you know, I kinda forgot what Ben looked like with ears. Still wanna know how he hears without ‘em. He never answered when I asked him. Hmm. Anyways, I love you and will see you later. Don’t wait up. And, uh, don’t worry, Ben’ll be fine. I want him to enjoy himself. I won’t do anything too mean. Although…he can’t kill me now that he doesn’t have his powers. Huh. I’ll have to think about this some more. Bye, babe!”

Peter rolled his eyes. He could practically hear the smirk in Johnny’s voice, and had no doubt that at some point, Ben would be in for Johnny Storm-style trouble, seeing as how Johnny loved nothing better than to play pranks on his friend, the more mischievous the better. He only hoped Ben would get out of it in one piece. 

He honestly didn’t mind that Johnny had taken the time to spend with his old friend. It was actually kind of sweet, not that he’d ever tell Johnny that. Johnny’d get embarrassed, the way he did when he got caught doing something genuinely nice.

So, when Peter came home and Johnny wasn’t there yet, Peter wasn't surprised. He collapsed on the bed and fell asleep instantly, wishing Johnny was there to warm him up. But when Johnny didn't call the next evening, didn't even call to check in, he began to feel a sense of anxiety creeping through him. An impending sense of doom. Something was coming. Johnny’d been gone before, but this felt…different. Something bad was going to happen. Another of those tragedies that riddled his life. He just knew it, somehow. Perhaps it was his spidey-sense? He didn’t know why he knew. He just did.

Johnny always called. He knew Peter worried otherwise. Peter tried to call Johnny, but there was no answer. On his phone or the Baxter Building's. Peter spent a worried, restless night, and decided to rush over there the next morning to see what was happening with Johnny. 

So when he heard a gentle knock on his door as he was getting ready, he rose slowly from his breakfast of soggy eggs and burnt toast, which he'd been picking at disinterestedly, somehow knowing what would be on the other side. Knowing that these would be the last moments he’d have without knowing…whatever was coming. He wasn’t sure which would be better. 

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door, and saw…a Sue whose eyes were red from crying. A lot of crying, by the looks of it. He glanced over at Reed and Ben. Tight, distraught, haggard looks on their faces. Red-rimmed eyes, like Sue’s. If it was enough to reduce Reed to tears…it must be worse than he’d thought. He suddenly felt a bit sick. Oh no. This was going to be bad.

“Peter,” Sue said gently, struggling to hold back her tears. “I thought we should tell you ourselves. Before you hear it anywhere else.”

“Johnny,” Peter managed to rasp out, despite the sense of fear constricting his throat. “It’s Johnny, isn’t it? What happened to him? Where is he? Can I see him? How bad is it?”

“Oh, Peter. No. I mean, yes, it’s Johnny, but…”

“But what? Why can’t I see him? Is it really that bad?”  


“Worse,” she managed to say quietly. She looked as though she might burst into tears again at any moment. “You should let us in and then sit down. You’ll want to be sitting when you hear this. Yes, you’ll want to be sitting when you hear this.” She sounded distracted. A bit hazy. Very unlike her usual calm confidence. Worrying.  


“Sue. Tell me. Is he…is he…” He couldn’t seem to say it. What he dreaded most of all. What had seemed, nevertheless, to be almost impossible. What he refused to ever even think about, except in his darkest moments.  


“Peter. Let us in.” Sue looked at him expectantly, worriedly.

He moved aside, gesturing that they should. They all stood somewhat awkwardly in Peter and Johnny’s living room, the evidence of their messy lifestyle scattered around everywhere. Pizza boxes full of cold, uneaten pizza. Colorful DVDs and Blurays of assorted science fiction and fantasy films stacked everywhere in startling disarray. Johnny’s clothes strewn everywhere. The silly apron he wore when he ironed his clothes tossed over the armchair Reed sat in tentatively.  


Peter sat down on his worn out old sofa as well, feeling as though his knees were about to give way anyhow. “Sue, I’m sitting. Now tell me. Please. I have to—I have to know what happened to Johnny.”  


Sue sat next to Peter and glanced uncertainly at Reed and Ben.  


“You should be the one to tell him, Sue,” Reed said in a raspy, oddly emotionless voice. Disconcerting. “It’ll be better coming from you.”  


Ben nodded, sitting in an armchair that was much too small for him, eyes fixed on an old coffee-stain on the carpet. He seemed as emotionally drained and vacant as the other three. Shit. It was bad.  


“I don’t care who tells me! Just tell me!” Peter practically shouted. Anything would be better than the sense of dread he’d woken up with, he suddenly decided. At least this way he would know, for certain, exactly how bad it was.  


“Peter, calm down. I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you. I’m just trying to figure out how to say it. I don’t know, I really don’t know how.”  


“Just…say it! Whatever it is! It can’t be any worse than all of the things I’m imagining!”  


“Yes, it can. Peter…I don’t know how else to say this…There was an invasion from the Negative Zone. Ben and our children—had to stop an invasion by Annihilus. He’d unleashed the Annihilation Wave…in order to save…well, everyone, someone had to stay behind. Shut a gate so that it could never be reopened. Sacrifice their life to save the world. Ben was going to, but Johnny…beat him to it.”  


“I saw it, kid. Your boyfriend died a hero. Bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do. Billion against one. He wasn’t even afraid. Before the portal closed…last thing he said to me…he asked me to tell you that he loved you,” Ben added, still staring fixedly at the floor. He looked up at Peter and said, his eyes brimming with tears, “And…I’m sorry, kid. It shoulda been me who died. Not him. He was…so young. So brave. Better man than he knew. He didn’t deserve that. Matchstick deserved a long life…with you. I’m sorry. For both your sakes, I’m sorry.”  


Peter listened, oddly still and very, very pale. His brain…felt like it had stopped functioning correctly. Couldn’t function. Couldn’t formulate a thought. “Yeah,” he said distantly, after a few moments. It was like listening to someone else talk. From very, very far away. He knew this feeling. He’d felt it when he held his Uncle Ben’s broken body in his arms. Arms too young to bear that kind of weight. And then again when Gwen had died. His first love. Johnny...Johnny was supposed to be his last. “You’re right. That is worse.”  


Suddenly, something inside of him snapped. This wasn’t…it wasn’t right. Johnny wouldn’t leave him. He just wouldn’t. He’d promised him. That moonlit, magical night. Dancing on the roof. Holding him close, keeping him warm. Johnny was always so warm. He promised he’d never leave. That he’d always be back. That Peter could always count on him to come back to him. Because he loved him. And you never leave the people you love.  


“No,” he said quietly. Then, more forcefully, as though, if he said it fervently enough, he could make it true. “No. He can’t be dead, Sue. He just can’t be. I don’t believe it. I refuse to believe it!”  


Reed, Sue, and Ben looked at each other, concern evident on their faces.  


Reed said, “Peter, don’t do that to yourself. Don’t hope against hope. Johnny’s dead. You need to accept that.”  


Ben, crying softly, gasped out between sobs, “Kid, I was…I was…there. Last I saw he’d been swarmed by billions of baddies. He…there’s no way he could have survived that. There’s just no way.”  


“So you didn’t actually see him die. You just left him there. You didn’t even bother to try to bring him back. Make sure he’d died. What if he’s there, but just hurt? What if he needs us, and we just left him there? No body, no death, that’s how these things work with us. So, no, Reed, I’m not going to accept it, because it isn’t true!” He screamed the final few words, rising off the sofa and clenching his fists. He couldn’t accept it, wouldn’t accept it. No. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t true. It just wasn’t. It wasn’t. He sank back down, face in his hands.  


Sue scooted over to sit closer to Peter. She placed a soft, warm hand on his shoulder. His body tensed up instantly. He didn’t want this. Didn’t want other people’s pity. Other people to console him. Because that would mean Johnny was gone. And he couldn’t be. He just couldn’t be.  


Sue gently nudged his face over so he was looking directly at her. Blue eyes looking into brown. Eyes that were so much like Johnny’s. Tears were streaming down her face, her voice breaking with sobs every few words. “He was my brother. I have known him all of my life. All of his. You think I don’t want to believe he’s still alive? That there’s some way of getting him back? I think he’s dead too, Peter. I know he is. I just feel it. You do too, don’t you? You didn’t seem very surprised when you saw us in your doorway. Apprehensive, yes. But not surprised. You felt it somehow, didn’t you? And so did I. You know he’s dead. You do, don’t deny it. You need to come to terms with this. We both do. Convincing yourself he’s still alive…it isn’t healthy. He wouldn’t want that for you.”  


“No!” Peter screamed, his face contorted with grief and fury. “I don’t know that! I don’t! He’s not dead! I’m sure of it!”  


“Why, Peter? How can you be so sure?”  


“Because he wouldn’t just leave me like that! He wouldn’t! Not without even saying goodbye.” His voice suddenly became very small and very quiet, his eyes hollow and desolate. Which was somehow more terrifying and heartbreaking than when he was screaming, Sue thought.  


Sue and the others watched him silently, their eyes filled with compassion and sadness. And then Reed reached a hand into his pocket, and pulled out one of the many shiny silver gadgets he always had lying around his lab. Slowly, kindly, wearily, Reed told Peter, “He didn’t leave without saying goodbye, Peter. He left messages for all of us in the event of his death. And there’s one for you. I think you should watch it. It would do you good.”  


Sue interjected, “Can we—would you mind if we watched it with you? I understand if you’d rather we didn’t…it’s just…” She seemed to not be able to find the words. Or perhaps unable to utter them.  


But Ben did, his voice small and broken. “This is probably the last thing we’ll ever hear him say.”  


Peter nodded, a lump in his throat. He somehow managed to say, “Yes, it’s fine….Just, Sue, will you…would you hold my hand while we listen to it?”  


“Yes, of course I will. Of course.” She reached out and took his hand in hers. Grasped it tightly.  


“Shall I play it?” Reed asked. “Is everyone ready?”  


They all nodded. “Very well then,” he said, and took a deep breath. “Here we go.”  


The hologram flickered to life. Peter felt…a confusing rush of emotions at the familiar sight of Johnny’s face, Johnny’s body, looking so strange, so pale, so intangible. He looked almost…ghostly. As though this were a message sent from beyond the grave. Which he supposed it was, in a way. He struggled to quell the rising sense of nausea and panic. 

_Oh god oh god oh god…what if he’s really dead?_

Holo-Johnny began to speak. “Uh…hey, Petey. If you’re watching this, that means that I…well, that I’m dead. Hope it was a good death. Blaze of glory type of thing. Not an embarrassing one. Hope it wasn’t Paste-Pot Pete or anyone like that. Blech. Hope I made you proud of your old Flamebrain.” He grinned his patented Human Torch smile. The dazzling one that made everyone around him melt. “But it’s me, so of course I did.”  


He ruffled his hair--his perfect hair, Peter thought--nervously before continuing, voice growing more serious and earnest now. “Anyways, there are just…some things I want to say to you. Some that I hope you already know, but that I could never really figure out how to say to you without sounding stupid. Just…know that I loved you. That I really, really loved you. 

"And I know that I’ve said that to you before, but it’s just…I never explained. How those words just seem so…pitiful next to how I feel about you. I want you to know that you were the love of my life. Really and truly. The one person I loved more than anything. You just always seemed to…get me. Make me laugh. And I loved everything about you. Even when you were annoying and frustrating and stupid, which was a lot, ‘cause you’re a Bugbrain. 

“And, uh, I really want to say this…you asked me once if I ever felt, in certain moments when we were together, like we were…almost one person. I think you said it better than that, but…I was never very good with words. I told you that I felt that all the time. ‘Cause I love you so damn much. That it made me think of something I’d read in a book once. I didn’t want to tell you then what it was, ‘cause it was too embarrassing, and I knew you’d laugh. Figured I’d tell you someday when I was supposed to be all sappy and romantic. 

"Well, if I haven’t told you already, this is my last chance, I guess….It’s from a book I had to read in college. I don’t even remember what book, to be honest, ‘cause, seriously, English was just…yawn. So boring. Anyways. I do remember this. I remember thinking that I wanted to feel like that about someone, someday. And you, Peter, you made me feel like that. You did. Really. 

"Well, so, uh, here goes. And just, uh, don’t laugh, Peter! I mean it. Really. It goes…‘Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same.’ And they are, Peter. I was never happier, never more satisfied, than when I was with you. You are perfect, and you made every moment I was with you perfect.

“So, uh, anyways, I just wanted to say that to you, just once. So you could really understand how much you meant to me. And also—I know you. You blame yourself for every bad thing that happens to everyone you love. But, and obviously I don’t know exactly how I wound up goin’ out, but…I know one thing. It wasn’t your fault. None of it was. Don’t blame yourself for it. Don’t let it crawl inside your soul and fester. 

"That’s not what I want for you. I want you to try to find some way to be happy without me. I know it’ll be hard, ‘cause, god knows, if it was the other way ‘round, it would be for me. But just…you aren’t alone. You have a family. You have your Aunt May, and you'll always have MJ. And Ben, Reed, and Sue are your family now just as much as they were mine. They always have been. And they’ll take care of you now. 

"Just…please don’t cut yourself off from everyone. Ask for help if you need it. Let them help you. And above all, remember, just remember, that there was someone in your life who loved you more than anything. And who, wherever I am, wherever people go to when they die, if they go anywhere, is waiting to see you again. And I will, someday, Peter. But I hope, for your sake, that it’s a long time from now. And we’ll be together again, just like I promised. So just…promise me that you’ll live well. Be happy. And don’t forget me. I love you, Peter Parker. Goodbye.”

The image flickered out of existence, leaving Peter feeling as though there were an odd sort of void in the room now. It seemed so…empty. They all sat there in silence, Reed and Ben and Sue deliberately keeping from looking at Peter, to give him some sort of privacy.  


Peter stared dully at the space where Johnny’s image had been a few moments earlier. “He’s really gone, isn’t he?” he said, his voice tight and controlled. Eerily so.  


Sue nodded, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, Peter, I am so very sorry. We all are.”  


Peter bent his head and began to cry. And cry. His weeping was hollow, desolate, broken. He felt as though he’d never be able to stop, that no matter how much he cried, it would never be enough. He felt warm arms around him as Sue held him close. And then Reed. And Ben.  


“We’re here for you, Peter. Don’t forget that.”

***********************************************************

He lost track of the days, the hours after that. Everything seemed to happen far away. It felt as though it wasn’t real. As though it couldn’t be happening. He shut down almost completely. Withdrew from the world. A world he couldn’t recognize, refused to deal with because there was no Johnny in it. What was the point, without Johnny? 

_i want him i miss him oh how i need him pain pain nothing but pain will i ever feel anything other than this anymore i miss him i miss him i miss him_

He was depressed, he knew, very depressed, just as he had been after Gwen’s death. It just…felt worse this time? Or perhaps time and distance made it feel worse. Perhaps it had been this bad then. He hoped so, because it meant that he’d get through this somehow. That he’d survive, as he’d survived the loss of Gwen. 

_i need him i need him i need him_

He dimly remembered Sue insisting that he should stay at the Baxter Building with them as long as he wanted. That he was in no condition to be alone. The part of his brain that could still think supposed she was right. 

People came and went, seeming to attempt to talk to him, to offer their condolences. He didn’t listen. Couldn’t. Too wrapped up in his grief. In the loss of Johnny.  


He thought MJ might have come to visit. Held him tightly, stroked his hair comfortingly. But he couldn't talk to her. Not yet.

The funeral—Johnny’s funeral—happened at some point. He remembered it hazily. It was all just a blur. Fragments of memories, moments. He’d stared at Johnny’s statue fixedly, thinking somewhere in the back of his mind that they hadn’t gotten the nose quite right. Johnny’s nose was straighter. More lovely. And it crinkled when he laughed. 

Sue had asked him if he wanted to say anything. He’d said no. He knew he’d just burst into inconsolable tears. Couldn’t talk about Johnny. The grief was too new, too near. It seemed that nothing could pierce the thick cocoon of misery that seemed to surround him.

He slept, mostly. Consciousness…hurt too much. And in his dreams, he could still find Johnny sometimes. Could forget that he was dead. Could still talk to him, touch him, hold him. In his waking hours, he’d watch Johnny’s message, over and over. Until he had memorized every word, every tiny expression that fluttered over Johnny’s face. And then he’d sleep. And find Johnny again.

******************************************************

One day, he woke to find soft hands stroking his hair and shoulder gently. Sue and MJ.

“Peter,” MJ said when she realized he was awake. “This isn’t healthy. What you’re doing to yourself. You’ve been locked up here for weeks. This has to stop. We think you should see someone. A psychiatrist friend of Sue's. She can help you."

Peter said nothing.

MJ and Sue looked at each other worriedly. "You try, Sue," MJ said 

Sue took a deep breath. “I'm seeing her too, if it helps. I was hoping Ben and Reed and I could get you through this, but we can’t. You need professional help. Please. Talk to someone. You can’t do this forever. Johnny said he wanted you to be happy. This isn’t happy. Will you do it for Johnny?" 

Peter hesitated a moment. It would mean leaving this room. Returning to the world. He didn’t want to. Knew it would hurt too much. But still, he nodded. Slightly. They both sighed in relief. 

“Good. I’ll make an appointment for you," Sue said.

And so MJ dragged him to a brightly lit office one day. With a comfortable sofa. Blue. Almost the color of Johnny’s eyes. So Peter closed his eyes and tried to talk to the soothing woman in the dark brown dress, for Johnny’s sake.  


********************************************************** 

Eventually, he began to return to himself, with Sue’s help and Ben’s and MJ's, and of course, his psychiatrist did wonders. Even Reed, when he could be dragged out of his lab long enough, tried to help. He thought it helped Sue a bit as well, to have someone around to take care of. Helped her focus on something other than her own grief. He was glad that he had Sue to talk to. Ben as well. They understood what he was going through.

He admired Sue tremendously. He knew she felt the pain of Johnny's loss as keenly as he did. But she held herself together through sheer force of will, because she had to take care of a family that was hurting as badly as she was. Peter wished he could have that kind of strength, and found himself clinging to her for support. 

********************************************************** 

When he felt ready, he began to embark on the arduous task of trying to figure out how to put his life back together now that Johnny was gone. How to put himself back together. It was difficult, at first, so difficult. 

There were days he thought it’d be impossible. He didn’t know how to do it. Didn’t realize how tightly woven his life had become with Johnny’s. How much he depended on him for comfort, for support. How everything that had once brought him joy now did nothing more than remind him of Johnny, of the happiness they’d had. 

Somewhere along the way, they’d all become things he did with Johnny. He couldn’t help but be inundated by memories of what Johnny had said during a specific part of a movie, his stupid laugh, his silly jokes. Everything was Johnny. 

It was stifling. Overwhelming. 

He left the Baxter Building when he felt well enough. Got a new apartment, because he couldn’t bear to live in the old one, where memories of his life with Johnny were inescapable. 

A life he longed desperately to return to, but knew he never could.  


************************************************************ 

After a while, after several months, Peter didn’t quite know how but the pain of Johnny’s passing lessened slightly. Just as his psychiatrist had been promising. Rather than the sharp, intense pain that had reduced Peter to a crying mess for weeks, it became more of a dull ache, one that was constantly present, that Peter was perpetually aware of, always lingering at the edges of his consciousness. 

He could not escape it even in his dreams, which were filled with Johnny’s enchanting, roguish face, Johnny’s golden hair, and the sweet, shy smile that he only seemed to use around Peter. The dreams, he’d come to realize, were a blessing, but they would always be followed by that moment of utter agony that would come after he reached out for Johnny in his sleep, and woke to find only an empty bed. 

A bed that would always be empty, if Johnny wasn’t in it.  


There were moments, however, when the pain would flare back up with all the overwhelming force of those terrible, dark days that followed Johnny’s death, days that Peter hardly remembered, lost as he was in his grief. 

It was always small, simple things that would bring it all rushing back. A flash of perfect blond hair in the street, a dazzling smile, the sight of the Statue of Liberty on a postcard would be enough to spend Peter spiraling back into deep, paralyzing grief. 

He would rush home, in a daze, collapse onto their bed—his bed now, he supposed. Sometimes he would be reduced to fits of weeping as anguished and inconsolable as he’d had at first. 

On those days, it felt as though Johnny hadn’t been gone long at all. As though it had only happened yesterday. His grief felt as though it was still raw, still new. 

Other days, he would simply crawl into bed and lie there in the darkness, lost in his memories, the windows shuttered against sunlight that seemed just wrong—too bright, too cheerful, without Johnny there to share it with him. 

Sometimes, he would go and sit on the top of the Statue of Liberty, their old secret meeting place, and simply wait there for a few hours, pretending to himself that Johnny was still alive somewhere, that he would come flying by, all smiles and cheer and laughter, as he always had, apologizing for his tardiness. And when he didn’t appear, as of course he never would, Peter would feel once again the crushing sense of loss that seemed to be his constant companion since Johnny had…well, left him.  


Until, one blustery autumn day, there was a fateful knock on his door, a golden-haired superhero waiting on the other side...


	2. Chapter 2

The day Johnny returned, MJ and Peter were busy playing video games, laughing and joking around almost as freely as they had in the joyous years before Johnny's death. Almost. No matter how content they became, the shadow Johnny's absence cast was hard to rid themselves of. 

Still, MJ's heart warmed at the sight of Peter smiling. It was good to see him laugh again. He'd spent too long going around with his mouth drawn into an unrecognizable, pale, thin line. MJ had felt her heart breaking slowly every time she saw her best friend in such a state of misery and depression, knowing there was little she could do to help other than simply be there whenever he needed her. And she always was.

She was sitting in her customary spot, a battered old armchair to the right of the worn blue sofa Peter and Johnny preferred. Despite the fact that Johnny's death had occurred six months ago, his absence was obvious in minute ways. For instance, the way in which they always, without even thinking about it, left his spot on the sofa unoccupied when they watched TV or played video games. Peter sat towards the right of the sofa, closer to MJ, leaving the left side, Johnny's, empty and waiting. It was just habit.

MJ still felt a pang of sadness whenever she noticed one of these almost imperceptible reminders of Johnny's absence. She'd mourned his death as well. In the two years he and Peter had dated, he'd come to be a near and dear friend. 

She'd come to adore him almost as much as she adored Peter. They were, both of them, like the bratty brothers she'd never had. In their endless prank wars and quarrels, she shifted allegiances whenever she liked, depending on which flattered and bribed her the most skillfully. 

They were her boys, and she adored them both.

Johnny's death had marked the end of one of the happiest periods of her life. Before, she had felt, as so many young people do, that she and her friends were untouchable. That no matter what happened, Peter and Johnny would always come out of the other end alive. But Johnny's death had made all too clear precisely how fragile their lives were, and how very, very dangerous what he and Peter went out to do, every day and every night, truly was. 

She became terrified that she'd lose Peter as well. That some day, he would walk out the door, as Johnny had, and she would never see him again. She didn't think she could bear to lose both her boys. 

But she also knew that there was no way to stop Peter from being a superhero. That he needed to do it, especially now that Johnny was gone. He needed to feel that even though he hadn't been able to protect the people he loved, he could, at the very least, protect others' loved ones. 

She never tried to stop him, never indicated that she disapproved. But she couldn't help but worry about him all the time. How could she help it, when she'd had such a sharp reminder about how dangerous being a superhero truly was?

Peter had noticed that MJ worried a bit more about him now. He thought her constant worrying was a sign of her deep affection for him (which it was). He didn't know what he'd done to deserve a friend like MJ. Without her patience and gentle concern over the last few months, he probably would have spiraled deeper into his depression than he had. She and Sue had been his saviors. He could never thank either of them enough.

That still didn't mean that he couldn't grow very, very frustrated at the way she invariably beat him at every video game. Even his spider-like reflexes weren't enough to beat her. He'd tried pitting her against other Avengers--the select few who knew his secret identity, and with whom he spent time outside of Avengering--and she'd beaten nearly all of them. He wasn't quite sure how she did it. Maybe this was another of MJ's superpowers, like glorious makeovers and expert shopping.

"Oh my god, MJ, would you let me win once? Just once? That's all I ask, is once!"

"I did let you win once. It was your birthday. You were drunk and sad and I took pity on you."

"I don't remember that at all."

"You were so drunk you were trying to make out with a lamp. I kinda thought you might not."

" _I was not!_ Was I?

"Oh, you absolutely were! Just ask J--" She nearly said Johnny before she caught herself. Peter's face darkened slightly. 

"Shit, Peter, I'm sorry, I didn't mean--I just said it without thinking."

She was relieved when Peter simply shrugged it off. He couldn't have done that a few months ago. He was so much better now. 

They went back to playing their video game in silence, while MJ struggled to think of a new topic for conversation. She was saved by someone knocking on the door.

"I'll get it, Tiger," she said. "You keep on with the game. If you want a chance at beating me, that is." She paused her half of the game, set down her controller, and walked towards the door.

"Why do all of my friends always make so much fun of me?" Peter complained.

"Because you're an idiot, Peter!" she called back teasingly over her shoulder.

She opened the door. Johnny was standing there. She shrieked and slammed the door shut in his face. She turned sharply to look at Peter with a shocked look on her face, mouth hanging open. Like someone had just thrown a bucket of freezing cold water over her. She stared at him, frozen in place. 

"Um, MJ," Peter asked laughingly, "what the hell was that?" When she simply continued to stare at him, he frowned. "Is something wrong? Who is it?"

Another knock, insistent this time, accompanied by a man's voice saying, "MJ, you gonna open the door? I wanna talk to Petey."

Peter recognized the voice instantly. He dropped his controller, shot up, and locked eyes with MJ, pale as a ghost. 

"I'm not crazy, right?" she asked Peter, in shaky voice. "That's really him?"

Peter's mouth was hanging open, as though he was about to say something, but no sound was coming out. He just nodded instead.

MJ shut her eyes and said, "Right, that's what I thought."

She took a deep breath and then turned and opened the door. Sure enough, there was Johnny. Looking a bit older, a bit wearier, with a few new battle scars, faint, but enough to mar his perfect features.

She hugged him as tightly as she could for a few moments, tears filling her eyes, and he hugged back. Clearly, he was as happy to see her as she was to see him.

Finally, she pulled back and said tearfully, "Oh my god, you idiot, I thought you were dead! I am so glad you aren't!"

"Oh, MJ, can't get rid of me that easy. I am here to stay, and steal all of your black nail polish and chocolate chip ice cream." His words were flippant, but his voice was choked with emotion.

"Johnny, I'm so happy you're alive, I won't even complain."

Johnny snorted disbelievingly.

"Well...for the first month, at least."

"That's more like the MJ I remember," he said with a slight smile. It was an odd smile, really, one that looked as though it was the first to grace his sunburnt features in a long time. 

MJ really didn't want to think about why that was. Or where he'd been. She was sure she'd find out soon enough. But for now...she knew when it was time to make her exit.

Johnny lifted his head, and his eyes met Peter's, who hadn't moved a muscle since he'd jumped up when he'd heard Johnny's voice. 

"...Right," MJ said. "Getting out of your hair now. I know when I'm being a third wheel."

She grabbed her purse and coat and left them alone together. 

Once she was out in the hallway, she pressed her back against the wall and allowed herself to break down for a few moments. She wept tears of joy at the return of her friend. And then, pulling herself together, she walked down the hallway, towards the stairs, on her way to the grocery store to make sure her apartment was well stocked with chocolate chip ice cream.

**************************************************************

Back in the apartment, Johnny and Peter stared at each other, silent, motionless, until they heard the door slam.

" _Petey_ ," Johnny said in a hoarse, strangled voice.

" _Johnny_ ," Peter responded.

Merely two words, but they said everything that needed to be said, they were so chock full of emotion.

Not wanting to waste another moment apart, they ran towards each other, colliding and pulling each other into a fierce hug. 

Johnny was holding Peter so tightly that he couldn't breathe. But at the moment, Peter really couldn't bring himself to care. The need for oxygen was, for the next minute or so at least, less important than his need to be held by Johnny.

Eventually, Johnny's grip loosened. He drew his head back and whispered, "Missed you so damn much!"

In response, Peter twisted one hand around Johnny's head and jammed his mouth against Johnny's. Johnny's grip tightened again as he shut his eyes and kissed Peter back. 

Kissing Peter. This is all he'd dreamed of, all he'd longed for throughout the longest two years of his life, and here he was, doing exactly that. He could hardly believe it. He felt that it must be some beautiful dream, that he'd wake in a few moments and find that he was still in the hell that was the Negative Zone.

He kissed Peter harder. He felt that he needed to touch him, needed to kiss him, needed to feel him in order to really believe he was real, that he was there. 

Peter felt the same way.

Johnny drew back to take a deep, gasping breath, and said, "I love you, Petey, so much."

"Shut up," Peter whispered fiercely, and kissed him again.

Okay, Johnny thought hazily. I get it. No talking, just kissing. Fine by me.

After kissing a few moments more, he drew his body back slightly, mouth still on Peter's, bent slightly, put his hand under Peter's knees, and picked him up. He carried him to the bedroom and kicked the door shut.

Peter whimpered at the loss of the feeling of Johnny's body fitted so perfectly against his, but moaned happily when he realized, suddenly, that they were lying in bed, Johnny's body pressing his deliciously into the mattress.

Peter tore Johnny's shirt off and his own, needing to feel Johnny's bare skin against his. He began to run his shaking hands over every inch of Johnny's body he could reach, desperate to touch him everywhere.

Johnny's kisses grew more frantic, more wild, more passionate.

They both felt an overwhelming need to feel each other, body against body, to be with each other, to be inside each other. They needed to reach that blissful state of being where they felt as though their souls were mingling, their hearts united into one. 

Each touch, each caress, each sigh, each moan, communicated to the other everything that needed to be said more eloquently than a thousand words could have.

They spoke of desire, of longing, of grief, of sorrow. And most of all, they spoke of love. Of profound and lasting love, of a bond that not even death and long separation had managed to rend asunder.

This felt true, this felt right, more right than anything that had happened the last six months, marked, for Peter, by their unutterable _wrongness_. But here, wrapped up in Johnny's arms, Johnny's warmth, Johnny's smell, Johnny's taste, he felt the first true happiness he'd felt since Johnny's death. He felt alive, he felt joyful, he felt that he was, finally, at long, long last, _home_.

He felt that his heart had started to beat again.

**************************************************************

A few hours later, Peter and Johnny were cuddling together in the middle of the bed, forehead touching forehead, Johnny's hand circled around Peter's back, Peter's hand caressing Johnny's face. 

"You're really here, aren't you, Johnny? I mean, I'm not just dreaming all of this? I've had so many dreams of you, Johnny. Every night. And then I'd wake up, and you weren't here, and it was hell." 

Johnny smiled tearfully. "Yeah, beautiful, I know exactly what you mean. But yes, I'm here. I kind of can't believe it either. I've been missing you for so long, Peter." 

"It's been a long six months. Believe me, I know." 

"Peter," Johnny said quietly. "For me it's been two years." 

Peter gasped and wrenched his hand backwards, horror-struck. " _What?!_ " 

"That's what Reed figures, anyways. Guess I'm a lot older than you now." 

Peter was staring at Johnny, mouth open from the shock. " _Two years?!_ But where--how--where _were_ you the whole time? And, okay, explanation time. Why aren't you dead? Ben said you couldn't have survived that." 

"Oh. Um, well, Petey, I _didn't_ survive it." 

Peter blinked slowly, confused. "What? But you're alive now! Um...what?" 

"Annihilus had these...I don't know, bugs or something that could put you back together again and bring you back to life. I died and then I woke up screaming but I couldn't scream because I didn't have lungs, and I felt it, Peter, every time I died, and I died a lot, and they put me back together again, I felt everything they did." His voice was full of tears, and sounded as though he were nearly hysterical. 

Peter watched Johnny with a look full of horror, sadness, and compassion. He wrapped his arms around him and held him close. "I'm sorry, Johnny. I am so sorry that happened to you. I should have done something. I told Reed when they told me you were dead--no body, no death, that's what I said. I should have gone after you. I should have found some way to save you. I am so sorry that I didn't." 

Johnny drew back and looked into Peter's eyes, before saying, very assuredly, "No, Peter. You shouldn't have. There was no way to save me. You just would have been trapped there with me, and watching you die and get brought back to life dozens of times _really_ would have driven me crazy. It would have been worse than having it happen to me." 

Touched, Peter leaned forward and pressed his lips against Johnny's. When he drew back, he put his forehead against Johnny's again, and stroked his hair tenderly. "Johnny, you should talk to someone about all of this. After you...after we thought you were...you know...I was in a really bad place. Sue made me talk to a psychiatrist, and it helped, a lot. I still talk to her. You should talk to her too." 

"Petey, I'm not the talk-to-a-psychiatrist type. I hate psychiatrists." 

"Maybe you do. But you need help. What you went through...you need help processing that. Please, Johnny? Do it for me?" 

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Blackmail, Petey. Emotional blackmail. You know I never could resist you when you give me the sad puppy dog eyes." 

"I promise to use them only in the service of good. Does that mean you'll talk to her?" 

Johnny grumbled. "Yes. I'll go. But only because you forced me, with the sad eyes. Not fair." 

Peter smiled. "I love you too, idiot." Suddenly, his eyes darkened. "I really do, you know. I knew that I loved you before, but I didn't know. I really didn't know how much until you were gone, and it was so hard to just... _live_ without you here. It took me a while to figure out how. I spent a lot of the time after you...yeah...lying in bed sleeping and crying. I didn't want to face a world you weren't in. It was just..." He shook his head, at a loss for words. 

Johnny held Peter closer, and kissed his forehead as lovingly as he could, then laid his cheek against it. "Yeah, Petey, I know exactly how you felt. I know exactly how you felt." He paused for a moment, before saying, hesitantly, "You know, I think the only reason I didn't go crazy, there in the Negative Zone, dying and being resurrected all those times, was because of you. I clung on to the promise I'd made to you. That I'd always come back. I knew that I had to keep it, and I couldn't give up until I did. And just...knowing that there was someone waiting for me, someone who loved me, someone I belonged to, gave me something to hold onto. And no matter how many times they took me apart, my love for you was something they couldn't ever touch. Or hurt." 

Johnny reached out to caress Peter's cheek, and found that his hand came away wet. 

"Johnny," Peter said, "I'm gonna kiss you again now. And then we're having sex again." 

"You don't have to ask me twice," answered Johnny, as he leaned forward to kiss Peter as fiercely as he could. 

**************************************************************

They hardly left their bed most of the weekend. (Peter was so overjoyed that he could call it _their_ bed again.) But when Monday morning came, Peter had to return to work. 

At breakfast, Johnny told him he'd be at the Baxter Building taking care of a few things, but that he should be home by the time Peter got there. 

"Can I invite MJ over to hang with us this afternoon? Do you mind? I kind of really missed her too. Maybe I'll let her give me one of her famous makeovers. Be all gorgeous for you when you get home," Johnny said mischievously.

Peter gave Johnny the most skeptical look he could muster. "I think that what's most likely to happen is that I'll come home and be subjected to some horribly unfunny prank, that you and MJ think is just hilarious. Like, I don't know, the time you decided to put aerosolized cheese in my web shooters and convinced drunk me to try to web one of my favorite shirts. I still hate you for that."

Johnny couldn't help but snicker. "Yeah, that was totally MJ's idea. But it was all worth it for the look on your face. I think you chased us around the apartment screaming at us for like an hour. Good times." He sighed. "But no, I am not planning on pranking you, I promise. Too soon. The pranking wars will begin again at some point, you can be sure of that, but not yet."

"You're just trying to lull me into an unsuspecting state. I am onto you, Johnny Storm."

He held his hands up, as though to protest his innocence, "I just want to catch up with one of my best friends. You, sir, are paranoid."

Peter glared contemptuously at him. "Uh-huh. I'll believe it when I see it."

"So it's okay, right?"

"Of course it is, Johnny. I love MJ too. And we should probably explain why you're still alive. She's probably been freaking out about it all weekend. Maybe we should've texted her."

"We were a bit busy, babe."

"Yeah, I'm sure she understands."

************************************************************

As Peter was leaving his apartment, he found himself feeling an irrational fear. He knew full well that it wasn't rational, but he couldn't help feeling it anyways. He was terrified that if Johnny left his sight for even a single moment, he would vanish and Peter would be alone again. But he knew he couldn't allow fear to dictate his life, so he forced himself to kiss Johnny goodbye after he'd had breakfast and walk through the door. 

************************************************************

He rushed home from work as quickly as he could. He ran up the stairs, but paused when he reached his hallway. He was almost afraid to walk to his apartment and discover that his weekend had been some sort of crazy dream. He was afraid Johnny would be gone again. But when he reached his door, he heard laughter. Two voices, Johnny's and MJ's. He released the breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding in. 

He noticed that Johnny hid something quickly in one of his pockets and glared at him suspiciously. "What are you hiding, Johnny? Is this part of a prank?" 

"No, Petey! Nothing to do with a prank! It's just something secret between MJ and me. We'll tell you later, but it isn't ready yet." 

"Oh god. It is a prank, isn't it? Now I'm gonna be going around everywhere thinking I'm gonna get pranked." 

MJ laughed. "Tiger, really, it's not a prank. Relax. Johnny promised me he wouldn't play any pranks on you for at least a month." 

Peter squinted at her skeptically. "...right. Totally believe you." 

MJ and Johnny looked at each other and rolled their eyes. 

"What _have_ you done to make him so paranoid, MJ? Have you two been having prank wars without me? I feel like you two were cheating on me, suddenly." 

MJ looked at Peter a bit sadly. "No, no prank wars. Believe me, Peter was in no state for any kind of jokes." 

Johnny looked between them warily. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry." 

He changed the subject quickly. "Uh, so, Petey, Reed and Sue are throwing me a welcome home party this Saturday. Nothing big or fancy. Sue promised. Just a small intimate party with our closest friends and family. We gotta go, dude." 

"You and your parties. But yeah, fine, if it's just a small thing, that's cool." 

Johnny turned and looked at MJ triumphantly. She smiled excitedly. Peter was suspicious. Something was going on he didn't know about. 

*****************************************************************

He found out what it was at the party at the Baxter Building that Saturday. As promised, there were only a few people there. Family members and the Avengers who knew Peter's secret identity only, the ones he was close friends with. Aunt May and MJ, of course, Reed, Sue, Ben, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, Luke Cage and Jessica Jones, Carol Danvers and James Rhodes, Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, Clint Barton and Bobbi Morse, Natasha Romanov, Jessica Drew, Stephen Strange, Bruce Banner, Logan, etc. 

Peter was actually having a fairly good time. No one had seen him quite this happy since Johnny'd died. They'd all been worried about him. And they were all so very happy to see Johnny again. 

After everyone who'd been invited had arrived, Johnny grabbed Peter's hand and dragged him up a staircase a bit so everyone could see them. Peter was very confused. He wasn't sure what was going on. 

"What are you doing, Johnny?" 

"Just hush," he answered, "and go with it. It'll be okay, I promise." 

Peter shrugged, and did. 

"Attention, everyone," Johnny announced. "Now, for the reason you are all here."

The loud conversations and laughter ceased, and they all turned to look at Johnny and Peter expectantly. 

Peter was surprised. Johnny was going to make a speech? He hadn't known about this! 

"I'm so happy you could all join us. And even more than that, I'm happy to be alive, and back home. It's been a rough two years for me. But you know what? Going through something like that, it really makes you realize what's important in your life. And the whole time I was in the Negative Zone, the only thing I thought about was Peter." 

Peter's head snapped back to look at Johnny. Where was this going? 

"And I told Peter when I got back, that all those times I was being killed and brought back to life, the promise that I made to Peter, that I'd always come back to him, was the only thing that kept me going. But I kinda lied. I also made another promise to myself when I was trapped over there. I promised myself that if I survived, if I somehow made it back here, I would do this."

He turned to face Peter and kneeled, pulling a small box out of his pocket. Peter gasped, clapped both hands to his face, and widened his eyes in shock. From everyone else in the room, all he heard was a loud chorus of "awwwwwws." 

_Oh my god, was Johnny going to propose?_

Suddenly so many things made so much sense. That was the box he'd hidden in his pocket when he'd been talking to MJ. He must have asked her to help plan everything. Holy shit. 

His brain froze. 

"Peter," he realized Johnny was saying, looking up at him as though he were the only person in the room--no, correction, in the universe, "I love you more than I can say. More than I have ever loved anything in my life. When I look into the future, and think about what I want my life to be like ten, twenty, even fifty years from now, the only thing I know for certain is that I want you to be there with me. I couldn't imagine living my life without you. I even promise that I'll still love you when you're all old and wrinkly. So, Peter Parker, will you marry me?" 

Peter stared at Johnny without saying anything. Too stunned. 

"Okay..." Johnny said, "well, you should look at the ring. There's an inscription." 

Peter slowly reached out and read the inscription on the ring. It said, in minuscule handwriting, "Whatever our souls are made of." 

Johnny'd planned this all out so it'd be perfectly romantic. He was expecting Peter to laugh and tell him that of course he'd marry him, he'd be an idiot not to. He was expecting Peter to squeal, he was expecting a blush. He did not expect Peter to plop down on the floor, wrap his arms around his knees, hide his face, and start to cry. 

"Okay..." Johnny said. "Really wasn't expecting that." 

MJ ran forward, sat next to Peter and said, "It's okay, Johnny, I think he's just a little overwhelmed." She turned to everyone else, most of whom were smiling and shaking their heads at Peter's reaction, and announced, "I've got this. He'll be fine in a second." 

Clint suddenly appeared in the room with a tub of popcorn. Where he'd gotten it, MJ had no idea. He, Bobbi, and Natasha started munching on it as they watched the scene play out. 

MJ placed a comforting arm around Peter's shoulder and said, "Tiger, what's the matter?" 

"He was dead and I was so sad and then I found out he was alive and I was so happy and now he's asking me to marry him which is what I've wanted him to do since I met him and it's too much, MJ!" Peter practically wailed the last few words. 

She raised her head and gave Johnny her best "I told you so!" look. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Yeah, MJ had warned him this might happen, but he'd shrugged it off. 

"Um...so, was that a yes, Petey?" Johnny asked. 

Peter raised his tear-stained face and glared at Johnny. "Did you really, for one minute, think I'd ever say no? If you did you're an idiot." 

"So...was _that_ a yes?" he asked uncertainly. 

Peter rolled his eyes, exasperated. Hey, at least he wasn't crying anymore. "Yes, that was a yes, moron." 

"Not the most romantic way to agree to marry someone, but I'll take it." Johnny stood and reached out his hand to Peter. Peter took it and Johnny pulled him to his feet. He put the ring on Peter's finger, smiled and said, "Got ya now, Webhead. You're stuck with me forever." 

Peter smiled back. Now he was positively glowing with happiness, despite the tears on his face. "Is that a promise, Mr. Storm?" 

"Yeah," Johnny answered as he bent forward to kiss him. "That's a promise."

Their friends and family cheered happily, and, after the kiss broke off, rushed forwards to hug and congratulate them. 

Peter and Johnny had never been happier. This moment was perfect. And almost made up for all that they had suffered throughout the last few months and years.


End file.
